


Red & White

by HappyDagger



Series: Requests [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill wanted to see Ramsay's reaction to losing Reek, having found the show's version (or lack thereof) unsatisfying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Falling

"I don't understand." Ramsay squinted and stepped over Myranda's twisted wrist. He knelt and gasped as ice crackled through his chest. "It can't be..."

"Your men are looking for her." Roose's cold grey eyes penetrated his bastard's back. "You had best contrive some miracle to redress this."

Ramsay swallowed as his Lord Father's light footsteps faded away behind him, so regular; untroubled and unfeeling. Ramsay took the ring of leather in his hand and squeezed it, slowly shaking his head. "No." He jumped up from the pink mix of blood and snow like a flame. "No." 

He stormed up to his treacherous bride's chambers and pulled his hair upon finding them empty. 

Down through the castle, everyone ran from the monster as soon as they heard him marching down his blazing warpath. 

His girls cowered, whining in their dark corners when he threw open the kennel doors. "WHERE ARE YOU?!" The empty cage was silent. "NO!" Ramsay was exhausted from battle but his rage had ignited.

Ramsay was the inferno and began to raze everything in sight. 

 

Damon held straws out in his bandaged hand and looked down upon the other boys with a wicked, uncompromising stare. "I'll draw first." The browned yellow slid out of his fist. There was no red at the bottom. 

Dick licked his lips and went next. 

"This is what the little fucker was _for_ ," Alyn grumbled miserably. The sweet high of victory was stolen from them so quickly. While Skinner pulled his fur cloak tighter around his neck, Alyn stood facing the wind. Each crash, howl, and roar from the kennels made all but he and Damon jump like fucking maidens. 

"Not I," Dick laughed and threw his straw Alyn's way. "Well, we can't exactly send the little shit now can we?"

"He's killing them," Luton murmured. "He'll so regret it tomorrow."

"Pull a straw, my friend," Dick clapped Luton's shoulder and pushed him toward Damon. 

Luton reached out hesitantly with a trembling hand.

"Seven Hells." Alyn shoved Luton aside. "Fuck your straws."

 

"My Lord," Alyn called. Blood pooled around his feet. Men shoved past him, fleeing. Their strange new home had become another battlefield. "My Lord."

Ramsay's sword caught the shrinking sunlight before cutting down the guard he was cursing. 

"My Lord!" Alyn shouted. "RAMSAY!"

He stopped and looked up from the man dying at his feet with all the hatred his black temper had ever possessed. 

"Your-" Alyn cleared his throat, "your Lord Father won't like you killing all the guards."

 _"Look what they've done,"_ Ramsay hissed through sharp clenched teeth. "They aren't guards; they're  _traitors_! They BETRAYED _ME!_ They  _all_ BETRAYED ME! They're supposed to be LOYAL!" Ramsay suddenly straightened himself. "What's happened?" 

"Some of your girls've returned... without the men." 

"Show me."

 

Ramsay followed the girls on Blood with Damon and Alyn behind him. As soon as he heard his girls frantic 'a-wow'ing and plaintiff howls, his heart leapt. They followed a path as clear to them as King's Road. The dogs pacing circles and little impatient jumps had told Ramsay;  _he's alive._

 

First they saw the bodies of Bolton men. What disappointments.

They came to a stop while the girls followed the trail through the struggle. After the fight, he seemed to have had paced  or maybe he was stumbling about, disoriented. Before Ramsay made much sense of the dog's wandering, they raced down a steep hillside.

Ramsay dismounted and followed on foot. His girls started sounding their victory and circling a broken body.

 


	2. Caught

"Stop. Don't tell me how you'll get there or which way you're going." Reek-Theon; Reek perhaps, slurred. Poor Sansa kept on shivering. "Can't you give her something? A cloak or... fire."

She was saying something but all Reek heard was the drumbeat pulsing through his head and the call of ocean waves. She touched his face so kindly. Jon would kill Theon. He had every right. Still, in Sansa at least, Reek had found forgiveness. 

"You're going south," he told himself out loud. "I lived and slept with those dogs for years. I haven't bathed in..." his lips cracked as he grinned, but it didn't hurt. Nothing did. "He's coming for me. He wants his Reek back. There's no way I could ever escape the North as I am. They'll find me before nightfall."

She was crying now, silently like he was. She was so strong. Her parents must be so proud somewhere in their woods. How do their gods work again? 

What were they saying? He could hear maybe, but the muffled sounds conveyed no meaning. He was so warm suddenly. _Yes, this is their wood and_ at last, _they will let me die as Theon._

 

He pressed westward and must have traveled the length of Weeping Water. Maybe he would see the shore tomorrow, but it was starting to get dark and his limbs were failing. Theon went downhill, slogging through the snow. He was starving, his ankle was twisted, his gait worse than ever, he couldn't catch his breath, but Theon had never been stronger, warmer or so completely free of pain. His tunic was unbearably heavy and stiff like stone so Theon tried to pull it off and fell. 

 

***

"I have him!" Ramsay shouted without looking back. 

"Do you need help?"

"No!" Damon was too big, rough, and stupid to get near Reek as he was.

Reek's hollow chest was as white as the snow around it but still expanded and contracted so weakly against his palm.

Ramsay drew a flaying knife worked to saw through Reek's frozen rags. With movements just as delicate and precise as when he'd made the scars barely visible on the pallid body, Ramsay lay his favorite pet on his own fur-lined coat, then carefully wrapped it around him, stopping at the shoulders. 

 _"You dropped this,"_ Ramsay hissed.

Reek's eyes fluttered when the buckle was secured behind his neck.

"Reek, where are they going?"

"South."

"Who was it? Reek?" But he was gone again. Ramsay gathered his boy up into his arms. "Reek,  _stay_."

 

Ramsay came up the hill carrying his prize. "Damon, have Ben get a fucking lock for this collar."

"You, uh..."

Ramsay stopped and glared at Alyn.

"You killed him, my Lord."

"Did I? Well, find a gods damned locksmith then!" Ramsay laughed.

Alyn grumbled and kicked his horse to get going.

 

Reek twisted and moaned pathetically in Ramsay's arms. "He's coming. He's coming."

"Who? Who was it? Who did this?!" 

"Master. He's coming. He's coming to take me away," Reek jerked, "haha."

"That's right." Ramsay pressed his razor sharp smile to Reek's pale blue ear.  _"I want my Reek."_

 

Reek would wake and warn Ramsay about himself, then sink back into an uneasy sleep all the way home. He sat up straight, nearly falling forward, as the gates to Winterfell yawned open. Ramsay yanked him back.

"Don't call him that. Never-never-" Reek shook head. Ramsay was rather happy with that. "I'm fine. Leave me!" He began to shiver and curled up to Ramsay's chest.

Ramsay kicked Little Walder away. "I broke Stannis Baratheon, I can get off my fucking horse unassisted. Call the Maester, you twat!" 

 

***

 

Roose tapped his fingers against the arm of Ned Stark's chair. Hours must have passed since his bastard's return had been announced but he had still not yet deigned it worth his precious time to account for himself. Roose stood with a quiet huff that made sweet Walda look away.

"It seems dinner is over. Your cousins will escort you to your chambers and remain to guard them."

"Yes, dear." Walda shared a brief look of concern with him. 

 

He shoved Ramsay's door open then came to an abrupt halt.

"They're headed south. My men are on it," Ramsay said sleepily.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Warming him."

Roose leaned a little closer, frowning. A large fire crackled to his side. The dramatic shadows made Ramsay's Lord father look more inhuman that usual. "Why?"

"Who do you think told me that Stannis' Wildling mongrels took my bride south to her uncle?"

"Which uncle? Why?"

"If I warm him and he lives to recover his strength, perhaps he can tell us. Good night." Ramsay curled more tightly around Reek in their fur chrysalis as his door slammed shut.

At first, Reek's slight frame was ice cold on Ramsay's skin but now they were both warm and they slept deeply.

 

 

 

 


	3. Story

Ramsay woke that morning to warm blood pooling around his legs."Fuck!"

He ran out naked to find Tybald and shoved and beat the man back to his chambers, making his obscene threats and horrifying all they passed.

It was a deep but thin wound that had not been detected the night before.

"His heart is strong again," the Maester tried to consol his young Lord before being thrown out into the hall.

 

Ramsay came back from breakfast in no better mood.

"What the fuck is this?!" Ramsay held up a glass jar with white knuckles and thrust it toward Maester Tybald's pale, blushing face. The black creatures went swirling inside.

"Your Lord Father-"

Ramsay spun, hurling the jar into the fire. 

"I tried to tell him the boy can't afford to be weakened. I didn't apply any, my Lord."

Ramsay yanked all the furs away from Reek's broken body to inspect it. It seemed Tybald had only applied splints and clean bandages. "Good." He started pacing again. "I need him to wake."

"Yes."

"I _need_ information from him."

"I know. His fever has broken. He is healing. He was already so weak before this attack." Maester Tybald pulled the furs back up over Reek's emaciated frame. 

Ramsay came to a stop, eerily glowing in the light grey window. "He was a  _prisoner._ " 

"Yes, of course."

"MY prisoner. He was a traitor! Our enemy."

"Yes, my Lord."

Ramsay rushed upon Maester Tybald and grabbed the fur round his neck with both fists."Who cares if he was weak? He should be! He _had_ to be! He stole Winterfell! The fucking Krakens were crawling all over the North and I stopped them! ME. No one else! Me! And I did it with that!" He pointed to Reek and struggled to swallow.

"You saved his life, my Lord," Tybald assured him, calmly. "I'll attend to him until you return." 

Reek looked like a corpse, only his face hadn't yet fallen, sliding against his skull into that vacant frown. 

 _He doesn't even seem to draw breath._ Ramsay realized he was still clutching his old Maester and let him go. "I need information from him." Ramsay cleared his thick throat and turned away. "You've always been kind to me, always loyal like my dogs. If he dies,  _you_ can eat his flesh." He marched to the door and snapped back to flash a frothing wild grin which seemed all made of fangs. "You'll have to tell me if failure truly does taste bitter."

When the door slammed shut, Theon showed no response. 

 

***

 

Tybald was sleeping in an adjoining servant's chamber when he heard a crash early one morning some days later. 

 

"Theon?" He sat up and rolled out of bed. He rubbed his eyes and felt around the dark room for his robe.

 

"Theon?" Tybald came in to find his patient crawling towards the window. "What are you doing?" Theon pulled himself up, then his quivering muscles gave out. "They broke your wrists and ankle, don't you remember? Don't you know where you are?" Theon tried to sit up again, moving slowly and carefully now as though he hadn't already been caught. Tybald tried again. "Reek? Do you remember me? Lord Ramsay is away seeking his stolen bride. Where did they go?"

Theon covered his face with both palms. One fell away and he examined the blisters on his remaining fingers.

"Theon!" Tybald stomped impatiently and Theon jumped like a startled cat.

It wasn't hard to move the broken man back into bed. In fact, he was so light that Tybald's great swell of hope slightly abated. 

 

***

 

"You must eat." 

Theon kept staring out the window.

"Did you hear me? Theon?" He touched the boy's leg and got his attention at last. "You **must** eat."

Theon shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Tybald pulled Theon up by his sharp, loose shoulders. "You  _must_! He'll kill me if you die."

Theon seemed to think, or maybe he was simply succumbing to exhaustion again. "Would you like to help House Bolton?" he whispered.

"Of course." 

"I'll eat if you help me."

 

***

 

"What do you know about this?" Roose asked cooly. He lay a letter on Ramsay's table. 

Theon stared out his Master's window, studying the courtyard below. 

Roose tilted his head and frowned slightly. "Is this a bad time?"

Theon scratched his head and sighed. He pulled the fur wrapped around him up to his ears. 

Roose raised an eyebrow then walked up behind Theon with the bowl and ladle from that morning's stew. He banged the two directly behind Theon's shoulder but produced no response in his subject.

"Hmm." 

After surprising and scaring the boy into meek apologies, Roose got him to speak. He studied Roose's thin mouth and answered as though he could hear every word.

"Theon, what happened that day?"

"Lord Bolton, the only thing that could unite the North behind your great house more easily than Sansa's child, is her foreign kidnappers. You all so fear outsiders," he smiled sadly, "and love to hate your enemies."

Roose sat on the window's ledge across from Theon with just a phantom of a smile stretching the corners of his mouth.

"I remember hearing the tense voices. She was kind of growling in that Stark way. I came without thinking. There was a man and woman with their hands on her, talking about what they could get. One was a giant. They spoke of going South to flee from the Others. I tried to fight in the woods." He blushed remembering the man he'd killed. 

"And then?"

"I made peace with death."

Roose nodded. "What about the uncle?"

"Sansa said her uncle would pay her randsom."

"Her lady knight stalker was seen meeting with the Blackfish. Your bastard has sent word that the Vale is marching from the South as the Wildings encroach upon us from The Wall. We can't win a two front war alone. We **need** this story. Your account makes you _useful_." Roose paused meaningfully and tilted his head a degree. 

"Yes, my Lord."

Roose stood and looked out at the frozen landscape stretching beyond Winterfell's walls. "Your master will start a campaign to unite the North against its foreign invaders. That should be easy enough when people are scared and hungry. Even he should manage."

"He's quite charismatic, my Lord." 

Roose looked at Theon with no readable expression.

"Or... persuasive, surely, my Lord."

"Is he?" Roose combed Theon's wild hair away from his face with cool, measured strokes. He watched Theon's shoulders curl inward. "You're still as pale as I and shaking like a dry Autumn leaf. Go back to your master's bed, Theon. That's where you belong, isn't it?"

Theon swallowed against the warm, dizzy nausea rising in his chest. "Yes, Lord Bolton."


	4. Truths

Ramsay read the letter again by the light of a shaking lantern then tore it into feathery shreds. "So that's the story he told when he woke?"

Leather squeaked and crunched as Roose leaned back, watching the relentless snowfall outside as he sat comfortably by the warmth of a stone fireplace. His bastard chose to warm himself by stomping up and down the heart of the empty tavern. "Your pet creature wrote it himself. How kind of you to leave him so many fingers."

"Did you read it?!"

"Obviously. I intercepted it from Maester Tybald who was trying to send it to you at your creature's behest."

Ramsay watched the fire writhe. "But why is she at The Wall instead of Riverrun?"

Roose shrugged. "It must have seemed to be a better alternative than simply killing her when the Blackfish undoubtedly declined to pay whatever ransom they had hoped for. He didn't stay to defend Robb or Catelyn when we killed them, he didn't negotiate for the release of his nephew; cleary, he wouldn't throw sacks of gold at Wildling invaders with Lannisters surrounding him. Ned's bastard, on the other hand, is the tenderhearted Lord Commander who fell in love with a Wilding and let scourges of them pass through The Wall. So? Where would you take a Stark in that case if you were a Wildling?"

"That's right..." Ramsay considered quietly. "He let them pour through the wall into  _our_ land."

Roose nodded. "To terrorize our quiet, peaceful people. Do you see now what I'm asking you?"

"Yes. You think the North hates me because they see me as a dagger hanging over their heads, but if that dagger is stabbing the strangers who come to kill and eat their children, who could be behind any corner, the source of any rustle or shadow, well... now that horrible dagger becomes almost sacred." Ramsay's grin was sharp. "And _only_ **I** can do this for you, not that pissing shitting wailing parasite."  

Roose snorted. "Hardly."

Ramsay leaned over the table to examine the map again, briefly distracted with the thought that crib death is so prevalent during long winters. "We've cut the Vale's supply here and here. And buried shit tipped spikes in frozen marsh here, alI around Moat Cailin where they're slowly being picked off by Cragomen as they freeze to death. While the Vale is being choked to death," Ramsay's finger swept north to First Hearth, "the Wilding savages have been seen here. I have more time to gather forces and unite our simple countrymen. It's almost too easy, Father. You must see how they love me. I should have started a cult." Ramsay stood and laughed. "Maybe I shall yet."

Roose cocked his head slightly. "It **is** easy to distract scared and hungry people with a common enemy. Upon the outrage of panicked masses is where monsters rise."

Ramsay grinned and threw out his arms. "And here I am to ride the wave and bring  _our_ House to glory." He spun to take his leave.

"You never cried."

Ramsay turned back slowly, looking more the vulnerable child Roose likes to see. "Sit down. I've not finished with you and you know I dislike your pacing about." 

The distastefully smug smile fell away completely. "What do you mean?" He sat, calmer now like a barking dog after its leash had been snapped.

"You were complaining about your half brother wailing. All my other children cried in their brief lifetimes, but not you.Not even as an infant. I remember my father making the same observation to me."

Ramsay's eyes glowed back to Roose, rounder than before. "He did?"

Roose smiled. "Perhaps I would see you speak, Ramsay. But then we must return to Winterfell. I have a surprise waiting there for you. A gift from the Umbers I'm sure you can put to good use."

 

***

_Theon!_

His eyes fluttered in his master's black chamber. Ramsay wasn't there yet. He mustn't have heard anything.

_Theon, please help me!_

It was a boy. Reek sat up and swooned. Impossible. He must be half asleep. 

_Don't let him kill me! Please!_

Theon clasped his sweating brow and sank back into bed. Was it a ghost or a fever and would either be merciful and take him to the sea? He could hear the waves and felt a terrible pressure in his ears, as drowning men do, falling to the sea floor to dine with the dead.

 

***

"Reek." 

When his eyes next opened the room was flickering red and silent. The mattress had shifted. He jumped. "Master."

"You've been a naughty boy."

Reek sank back cowering and felt his throat whining. "I'm sorry. Did the Maester tell you-"

Ramsay took a fistful of feral hair and kissed his Reek as he climbed over him. He sat up and pulled off the last of his clothing. "Yes, you were beaten. He took care to tell me." Ramsay held Reek's narrow face with both hands and smelled his warm crown. "You're with fever."

"I what?" 

"Why are you so weak when I've commanded you to recover?"

"I-I'm sorry, Master."

"You were so underweight, malnourished," Ramsay kissed his favourite pet's jaw and chest, "you tried to fight the bad Wildlings and run home to me but collapsed dying in the snow. I read your letter. I saw your wounds. But..." Ramsay stopped and pulled at Reek's collar. "Why did I find this by Myranda's corpse? That's," he smiled serenely, "the only thing that's been bothering me."

"My... collar?"

"That's right. See that bow and quiver? I brought them here for you. She died with that quiver of arrows on her back and that bow in her fist. It must have been hell to take it from her corpse. You have no idea how the dead can grip their weapons... or do you? Reek wasn't ever a warrior. Not my sweet Reek. Meek Reek. That's what you used to say. But Theon-"

"No! Not Theon!"

"He may have walked over corpses of enemies he'd slain. Someone your height killed one of my men," Ramsay shrugged, "just from what experience tells me. His size, the length of the sword, the angle of the cut. It doesn't look like a giant lady knight or a Wildling who's never been trained to use a real sword for even an hour of their miserable lives. Not like Theon was with Ned Stark's children."

"No, please," Reek whispered. "They didn't want Reek so they took it from me!"

"Why?"

"What?" Reek squinted and leant closer.

"WHY?!" Ramsay backhanded Reek then punched his lying face. " _WHY_ would they want Theon?"

A thunderclap resounded in Reek's head. "For justice!" He grabbed his ear and pulled a sticky palm away from it. The pressure had been released somehow. He hadn't even realized it was there until he felt relief. 

"Are you _bleeding_? What is wrong with you?! Miserable wretch! Look what you've made me do!" Ramsay jumped off the bed and began tearing the room apart. "They wanted to sell you to that slimy Tully bastard so you could !" Ramsay overturned his table and tore down his curtain. 

Reek shook his head helplessly. "I don't... please, I don't know what you're saying."

"They can't have you! No one can! I'LL KILL THEM ALL."

Reek looked at white puss on his palm. It was streaked with blood. 

"And what if I die tomorrow? Huh? You would be happy then, wouldn't you? You fucking traitor!" Ramsay sank into a shadowed corner and watched Reek searching for him. The stone wall was cold on the back of his head and against his scraping fingernails. "I know you're lying. I KNOW when you are lying! Pick a foot."

Reek kept looking around the room without even twitching a single muscle.  

"I killed Sansa, Reek." Nothing. "Just like I killed your dry cunt of a sister." Nothing still. "You can't hear me, then?"  _He's not lying about that much._

Reek gasped when Ramsay stepped back into the red dancing light.

"You told me that you loved me."

"I don't know what you're saying. Did you get the letter? Maester Tybald said... please, I'm sorry. If you could write for me, or... I haven't heard anything since..." he choked and shivered, sobbing. "Please, Master. I don't know what you're saying."

"I know when you're lying. You weren't. You told me you loved me and you _weren't lying_. IT WASN'T A LIE!" He descended upon Reek and shoved Myranda's bow and arrow at him. 

Reek cowered waiting for the blow to land, then cautiously looked between the arms shielding his face. "What? I don't understand."

"You hate me? You want to  _save_ everyone from me, is that it? Go on then! You know how to use these. I thought I changed you! I thought you were someone for ME. You're just another fucking highborn twat biding your time until you can shit on my fucking grave. Look at you; how could possibly be a fucking prince? Your own father gave you away to the wolves and told me to kill you instead of bothering him with letters and pieces of flesh. You are supposed to be **loyal**! Loyal like a fucking dog! **MY LOYAL REEK!** If you are Prince Theon-fucking-Greyjoy, go on and kill me while I'm here staring you in the face so I can hate you back one hundredfold! _Pray to your Drowned God you don't miss."_

Reek stared at the bow and arrow on his lap then slowly looked up at Ramsay, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his back and a mad grin on his face. "Why would you do this? What are you doing?" He shook his head and blinked at Ramsay's white chest. His anger was a thin veil, barely hiding a wealth of agony. "I can't." 

"Why?"

Reek squinted. "Why?"

Ramsay nodded and climbed back onto the bed, shoving the bow and arrow out of his way. They sounded hollow when they clattered on the cold floor. 

Reek swallowed and pushed back, down into the pillows. "Because... Ramsay belongs to Reek."

"That's right." Ramsay nodded and took Reek's maimed hand to his own alabaster chest. "Ramsay belongs to Reek." His other hand wrapped around Reek's thin neck. _"And Reek belongs to Ramsay."_

 

 


	5. Lies

Reek tried to find the word for Ramsay's kiss and find in it some truth about the monster wrapped all around him.

_Consuming. All-consuming._

The three fingers remaining on his right hand ran through Ramsay's thick hair. His fingernails dug into Ramsay's skull and pulled him closer. _No._ "I hate you."

Ramsay pulled back smiling. "Say that again."

"Say it?" 

Ramsay nodded and gave Reek's neck a squeeze. "Say it!"

Reek gulped as a crushing bittersweet misery welled up around his eyes and nose. "I hate you."

"HA! You LIAR!"

Reek's head fell back, gritting out a scream he couldn't hear. He fought uselessly to tear away but his face was slapped and his wrists were caught before he could get anywhere. 

"Look at me. LOOK AT ME!" But Reek failed to comply so Ramsay jumped up and strode across over to his table.

 

Reek's eyes opened when cold, sharp metal pinched into the lower lid of his left eye.

Ramsay smiled, happy to have his attention again and pointed the knife at his own eye, closed it, then mimicked making a careful slice. 

To his horror, and surely out of his delirium, Reek felt his chest spasm with nervous laughter. A terrified but irrepressible smile tried to hide on his face. "You're going to cut off my eyelids if I close them?" 

Ramsay grinned and nodded.

_No, you won't._

He continued speaking, but Reek couldn't make Ramsay's words out with the light at his back and his face all made of shadows.

In his head, Reek interrupted Ramsay.  _I know you're telling me all the horrible things you'll do. It matters not which words you're saying. You don't hurt me anymore, you only make your threats more obscene._

Theonshuddered suddenly. He tried to think as far back as his exhausted, whirling mind was able. Ramsay hadn't take pieces from Reek, and Theon was on the dizzying brink of realizing something terrible.

"That's right. I see it. I see it in your stupid face. I MADE you love me," Ramsay declared  triumphantly. He got up on his knees and grabbed Reek by his shoulders, shaking him with each syllable. "Be-cause you-re mine. I bade you love me, and you obeyed because you're weak, because you're loyal, because you're mine in every way outside and all the way inside. You lose, I win!"

Reek saw that his mad lord had become excited and shrank under him averting his gaze.

"Don't blush!" Ramsay laughed. He fell upon Reek biting, kissing, smacking and grabbing him. Reek's groans and whimpers came more freely than they ever had, perhaps because he didn't have to hear them. "You like it. You want me. Say it. Say it!"

"What? Say what?"

"No! Better still, tell me you love me again."

Reek shook his head helplessly. "Please, Master, in the daylight I would see-"

Ramsay spun off the bed and ripped Reek out from the safety and warmth of the fur blankets there.

Reek grabbed his head and groaned stumbling. The room became as a ship upon a stormy sea. He braced himself from smashing into the floor with a trembling arm, the other reflexively covered his head.

As he groaned from the sharp pain in the knee he'd landed on, Reek was dragged to the fireplace by his hair and arm. 

"Come, Reek this is very important for you," Ramsay said with twisted benevolence. "An important lesson. NOW," he dropped Reek on the woven rug by the fireside and knelt down in front of him, "look at me."

Reek cowered a moment, sure he'd be burned.

"Say, 'I Love You'." Ramsay frowned and smacked Reek's arms away. "LOOK AT ME!"

"Yes!"

"Say, 'I Love You' or I'll cut your useless ears off!"

Reek strained to see but hopeless tears warped his vision. "What?"

"Say, 'I Love You'!" Ramsay snapped.

"What? Please, slower, Master?"

Ramsay huffed and spoke slowly enunciating as clearly as he could, "I LOVE YOU."

Reek's jaw dropped and silence buzzed between them. "I..." Reek's hollow chest began to heave. "And... I love you."

"Good." But it wasn't, exactly. Ramsay thought Reek would be defeated, subdued, humiliated even. His look of awe was... "Ha," Ramsay forced himself to bark. "I see. You little idiot," he mumbled to himself. "Reek," he said clearly, in the flickering red light. "Get up. On your knees."

Reek nodded and obeyed. Even when he opened his mouth and took Ramsay into it, he stared up with that same look in his eyes.  It made Ramsay feel... something.

Reek's left ear started popping as he sucked, but it didn't hurt.

"That's enough," he decided and pulled Reek's head away. He snapped his fingers then gritted his teeth because he kept doing things as though he was incapable of remembering Reek had lost his hearing. "GET ON THE BED!"

Reek went low to the ground, seeing Ramsay's frustration. Each time he tried to stand, the chamber swayed, so he ended up crawling back. Ramsay seemed happy with that. He shoved Reek onto his back and slid the clean linen breeches down over his healing legs. He snapped an aloe leaf and used its weeping guts to slick his cock. Reek cried out when Ramsay thrust into him and trembled, exhaling groany little whines. 

Ramsay yanked the ring on his collar to help Reek settle and worked two fingers into his mouth. "These lips were blue when I found you. Do you think that made me happy? What good is your corpse?" He leaned down until his nose touched Reek's. "Suck."

Reek obeyed. It made him sick to his stomach and warm beneath. There was a big POP in his left ear that made him gasp. 

With their foreheads pressed together, Ramsay began pumping into his favorite toy. It was real now. He was alive and Ramsay had him. "You must never leave me. Never. _Never_. I made you. You're mine. I made you just for _ME_."

"Yes, Master."

The corners of Ramsay's panting mouth curled up in a hungry smile. "They all hate us both. Everyone. They always will."

"Yes. Yes. I love you too."

Ramsay brushed his lips past Reek's and grinned, thrusting frantically now. Simple Reek. He had thought Ramsay meant... It was a ridiculous misunderstanding and Ramsay had the rest of his life to convince himself of that. 

 

***

 

The next morning, Ramsay was happy and ready for battle before dawn. Father approved of his plan and had the wild Stark boy waiting for him. 

 

When Reek sat up upon waking, he first noticed the ground didn't tilt or spin. Then he heard the battle. 

 

With things concluded, Ramsay raced back on Blood to tell Father of his triumph. The gates of Winterfell opened for its Lord, then began to close right behind him. He turned and saw the giant following him just before they closed.

"Stubborn  _bastard."_ Ramsay dismounted and watched the behemoth crash down his gates. Ramsay put an arrow through his singular, hideous eye then aimed for Snow; a bigger and closer target than his half brother.

But the bastard took a shield and blocked the shot then marched on.

Ramsay could hardly believe it. He would laugh about that when mounting Snow's head on pike. The Lord of Winterfell drew another arrow and let it loose.

The bastard blocked him again and marched on.

In fact, he swatted at the arrow as though it were a fly. It made Ramsay seethe. "Give up! You LOST! You'd lost before we even started!" Ramsay called and fired again.

But the bastard blocked his arrow and was upon him now. The shield slammed into Ramsay's face as the earth crushed his back.

Jon Snow raged, standing over Ramsay as the personification of hatred then his head was flung back. The Stark bastard's body slowly followed until it collapsed. 

Ramsay didn't understand. He pulled his legs out from Snow and watched his blood make lazy streams from the red river flowing behind his head. An arrow shaft sat miraculously between his dead eyes.

Reek dropped Myranda's bow and heard it clatter through one ear. He crept away from the window, back into Ramsay's bed.

He'd missed... shot too late and he had the rest of his life to convince himself of that.

 


End file.
